It would be an understatement to say that Lars von Trier polarises audiences. It seems that half the people think he’s a genius, while the other half think he’s a talentless idiot.

I certainly belong to the former but Melancholia is a first for me - I experienced both ends of the von Trier spectrum in one movie. The first half is an appalling, crappy, half-baked mess while the second half is a powerhouse.

The first half details the wedding reception for newlyweds Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Michael (Alexander Skarsgard). The first time we see them, they’re in the back of a limo as the driver tries to navigate a narrow country road. He has difficulties trying to get his car round a particularly tight corner.

I immediately took a dislike to the couple. They make snide comments about the driver and then when they finally go to help him, it seems like they’re trying to have fun at his expense - both of them have a go at trying to get the car round the tight corner but it seems like Justine has never driven before; she can only giggle when she smashes the front of the car into a cinder block (at one point the driver begs them not to damage the vehicle).

They arrive a couple of hours late to their reception. Given these circumstances, you’d think the newlyweds would be apologetic and compliant. Instead they immediately run off to goof about in the stables. They behave like children.

The friends and family of these nitwits aren’t much better. Justine’s mother (Charlotte Rampling) is a contender for the most miserable person on the planet, Justine’s father (John Hurt) is the resident ‘comedian’ who thinks that it’s a great idea to fuck around with the waiting staff, Justine’s boss (Stellan Skarsgard) is a selfish prick who doesn’t attempt to hide the fact that he’s only interested in Justine for her ability to make money, Justine’s sister (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is dull and gloomy and Justine’s brother-in-law (Kiefer Sutherland) is a wealthy jackass. There’s a very high concentration of pricks.

The opening hour ends up serving as an anti-Deer Hunter. In Cimino’s film, the wedding reception helps us to identify with the characters and to form an attachment to them, so that when they’re exposed to the horrors of war, the pain is almost unbearable. In Melancholia, the reception seems to distance us from them.

It’s made clear that Justine is a troubled woman but her relationship with her new husband is so hollow and facile that it almost beggars belief. At one point he gives her a photo of an apple orchard - apparently he’s bought the land in the hope that they’ll grow old together there. But when Justine is called away from the room, she leaves the photo behind. So much for happily ever after.

But as thoughtless and uncaring as this is from Justine, her husband doesn’t really deserve any sympathy. At the end of the evening he tries consummate the marriage, but he’s about as smooth as a crocodile and Justine brushes him away. The man has all the charm and class of a sewer rat.

The film’s nadir occurs when Justine leaves her husband to gloomily wander her brother-in-law’s golf course. Following her is one of her boss’s lackeys. Rather than tell the guy to piss off, Justine pushes him to the ground and fucks him. The staging is horrible. Apparently the kid gets an erection in about two seconds and then we see Justine bouncing on top of him - it looks like she’s riding his stomach.

But of course the scene doesn’t work on a deeper level either. I get that Justine is supposed to possess a depressive personality. And I know that manic depressives are prone to wild mood swings and engage in self-destructive behaviour, but the acting and the writing just aren’t good enough. Justine just jumps from Point A to Point B to Point C without adequately communicating the inner turmoil that is leading her to behave like this.

There was one point in Melancholia when I was ready to completely write it off. After getting fucked by Justine, the lackey tells her that they should go into business together, saying that, after all, they’ve had ‘good sex’. [insert sound of a cosmic forehead slap ringing across the galaxy]

Thank fuck then that I have an almost pathological inability to abandon a film, because the second half is amazing.

The planet Melancholia is heading towards Earth. The official story is that it’ll just pass by. However, other people say that it’s going to smash right into the Earth and destroy everything.

The second half begins with a severely depressed Justine staying with her sister Claire at her enormous mansion. Justine can barely move and finds even the simplest everyday functions impossible - she can’t even raise her legs to get in the bath. Obviously distraught, Claire does her best to raise Justine’s spirits. In one scene she cooks her sister her favourite dish - meatloaf. At first Justine seems to enjoy it but then she begins sobbing, saying that the meal tastes like ashes.

Her marriage in ruins and her life a complete mess, it seems like Justine has already experienced her own private apocalypse. It’s only when a much bigger disaster begins to loom that she rouses from her slumber and returns to something like herself. When she’s already lost everything, what is there to fear?

Indeed, it seems that Justine openly welcomes the end of life on Earth. Like she’s suddenly become Werner Herzog or something, she proclaims that all life on Earth is evil and it deserves to die. And then when Melancholia does its fly-by of Earth, she welcomes it like a siren - in the un-Earthly glow of the rogue planet, she bathes nude in the river. Perhaps Melancholia is a welcome release from her terrestrial problems.

Claire’s husband John doesn’t believe that Melancholia presents any danger. He and his son watch the planet get closer and the fly-by is a cause for celebration. His son even invents a contraption that helps track the rogue planet. With a stick and a loop of wire, he’s able to see if Melancholia is getting smaller or bigger. As predicted, after the fly-by, Melancholia begins to move away. It seems like everyone is safe.

In the morning, though, there’s an eerie quiet. Claire goes to the stables and sees that the horses are completely still and calm. She then finds her husband’s body - he’s killed himself with an overdose. Claire rushes back to the terrace of her mansion, picks up her son’s invention and sees that Melancholia has come back and is closer to the Earth than it was before.

Claire’s reaction to the impending disaster is sheer panic. She has a son, a good home and a comfortable life, and she doesn’t want to lose these things. Justine on the other hand is icily calm. She even mocks Claire’s idea of having a farewell party with drink and music - the end of the world is imminent and you want to have wine and music; how bourgeois!

Justine realises that hysteria won’t accomplish anything and makes sure that her nephew experiences the least amount of trauma possible. She says that she’s going to make him a magic cave out of sticks and that it’ll protect them. After so much selfishness and self-absorption, she finally achieves a state of grace with this act of decency and kindness.

It’s quite amazing how tense the final half of the film is, especially as we already know the ending - the prologue gives it away. The spectre of death looms over everyone and the inevitability of their demise is crushing. We get to see all of their hopes dashed, we get to see them panic and struggle and flail around like insects avoiding a boot that wants to stomp them - it’s a psychologically stressful film, especially if you have a family; you’ll do anything to protect them but what if you’re completely powerless?

It’s also a fantastic decision to have such a small focus. At one point I wondered how the rest of the world was reacting, but what does it matter? We’ve already seen mass hysteria in disaster films - it’s never particularly interesting. But here we get to see a small group of people dissolve right before our eyes. They’re literally crushed by forces beyond their control, which reminds us of how precarious our own lives are. We have far less control than we think.

The only thing that keeps this film from greatness is the abysmal first half. von Trier doesn’t have to pander to his audience but some measure of likeability in his characters would have given it a bigger jolt at the end. Or not even likeability - I just need a better understanding of the characters and their actions. A better actor than Dunst would have been welcome too. Although I do have to say that she improves greatly in the second half.

But you can’t help but feel that von Trier is happy that these people are being destroyed. This is great if you’re into schadenfreude, but not so great if you want a deeper emotional resonance.

One thing that amazes me about Young Guns is that it must be one of the few films where the bad guy is an Irishman and the good guy is English. Surely I thought all Limeys were dastardly rapscallions. Apparently not.

But then again, read between the lines and John Tunstall (Terence Stamp) might not be all that he seems. Here’s a guy who’s come to America to make money by selling cattle and who has a group of ‘Regulators’ to make sure that no one steals from him. Seems quite reasonable, doesn’t it? But all the Regulators are young men and nearly all of them are pretty boys. I’m not suggesting that they have to bend over for their supper (well, not all the time), but I’m quite sure that Mr Tunstall spends a lot of time in his bedroom beating himself raw.

I mean, just take the dialogue between him and Doc (Kiefer Sutherland) in the opening scene when they’re in town. He says he’ll buy Doc a drink but he also instructs him not to tell the other boys. Ooh, it’ll be our secret, eh? Yeah, just like the ‘happy time’ we have together is a secret. Sssh. Don’t tell the other boys!

And then later Tunstall takes Billy (Emilio Estevez) into town and buys him some nice new threads. Talk about grooming.

But I like the fact that the film acknowledges the sexual undertones. There’s a great bit where Murphy (Jack Palance) confronts Tunstall and suggests that the Englishman might have an unhealthy interest in his Regulators. ‘Well, I’ve had you pegged as the type who likes educating young boys.’ Palance’s line delivery is excellent.

And then there’s a scene where all the Regulators have to do a bit of reading (Tunstall sits in his rocking chair, either rocking back and forth like a dirty old perv getting a sexual kick out of the readings or rocking back and forth like a benevolent father figure – it depends on how suspicious your mind is). Billy is handed the newspaper that the other boys have been reading from, and to everyone’s surprise, reads superbly. Tunstall then gets up, says well done and ruffles Billy’s hair. Billy instinctively flinches away. Maybe he too senses that Tunstall’s kindness has a price.

But thankfully the film never turns into Lolita with guns and boys, and we’re left with the assumption that Tunstall really was a great guy. Unless of course the boys all willingly proffered themselves to the Englishman, in which case you’ve got an action version of Brokeback Mountain…which would be pretty neat.

But the scene where Tunstall is murdered is rather strange. A bunch of Murphy men turn up behind him and shoot the shit out of him. Stamp then stands up in a very odd way, like someone is pulling him up from a crane. It’s a death scene that I’ve always thought was odd, even when I was a kid.

One of the many things that makes Young Guns such a supremely enjoyable film is its grim sense of humour. After the Tunstall killing, the Regulators are deputised. They’re supposed to serve eleven warrants and expose Murphy’s corruption. But instead Billy decides to go on a killing spree. The first guy, called Henry Hill, he kills in the outhouse. But what makes the scene so great is the way that Henry is killed. Both Billy and Henry are going for a piss, and Billy starts giggling when Henry lets off a massive fart, but then Billy turns around. He then shoots Henry with his gun jutting through his fly. And then while cackling like a hyena, he shoves the warrant in the dead man’s mouth and tells him he’s under arrest. Billy’s borderline psychotic, but he’s so joyful that you’re always on his side.

Another funny scene is when Billy kills Sherriff Brady. He skips behind the Sheriff and throws his hat into his path. He then steals the Sherriff’s guns and murders him in cold blood. It doesn’t sound like a recipe for hilarity, but it is.

And Billy also has a great habit of delivering Bond-like one liners. After he and the Regulators kill a couple of guys, he says, ‘Court adjourned.’ Roger Moore would be proud.

In the mouth of this madness, the only voice of reason is Dick (Charlie Sheen). He insists that the Regulators are the law and that they shouldn’t be shooting everyone up. But he’s such a joyless character, telling Billy that he isn’t Robin Hood and then later taking an age to say grace (‘Dick, it’s getting cold!’), that you know he has dead meat written across his forehead.

To show just show square Dick is, he doesn’t even join in with everyone else when they take peyote. And by the way, what a genius idea it was to have cowboys on drugs. What a glorious 80s rock ‘n’ roll Western this is.

I’m sure most people, with good reason, will most fondly remember the drug taking sequence for Dirty Steve (Dermot Mulroney) talking about his chicken, but I actually prefer the moment with Charlie (Casey Siemaszko) on the cliff. He stands there, saying, ‘This is great’ and then promptly vomits. This in itself would be glorious, but then he starts rubbing his belly. Everyone knows that wonderful feeling after a good puke where you feel like a million bucks. Therefore I can’t help but chuckle every time I see Charlie pat his stomach.

But yes, Dick doesn’t take drugs and calls the rest of the guys godless heathens. Nowadays that would mean he’d survive until the end of the film, but in an 80s film it means he’s a damn square and must die. And die he does.

Perhaps trying to outdo Stamp in the weird death stakes, Sheen gets shot by an old geezer. But instead of flying vertically upwards like Stamp, Sheen decides to nod about a million times after getting riddled with bullets. It’s like he’s become a nodding dog.

Once Billy becomes the leader of the gang, the real fun starts. And one of my favourite scenes is when he catches some guy showing off to a girl about how he’s going to kill Billy the Kid. The guy is obviously a second-rate gunman, so Billy decides to fuck with him. At the beginning Billy flatters him and then he asks to look at his pistol. And then gradually, he winds the guy up further and further, right to the point that the guy tries to shoot the Kid in the face. But Billy has taken the bullets out of the man’s gun and shoots him. Estevez then laughs his manic laugh and asks Doc how many men he’s killed. He thinks he’s killed 25. Doc tells him he’s killed 5. ‘We’ll make it 10’, says Billy, pouncing on the opportunity to build upon other people’s myths about him and turn himself into a larger than life anti-hero.

Another amusing Billy moment is when he’s in a bath dictating a letter to be sent to the Governor. After a bit of waffle he says that he surrenders. He then thinks for a moment and says, ‘PS, I changed my mind. Kiss my ass.’ I just love how maniacal the character is. He’s a real Puckish figure – he isn’t scared of anything.

Hell, Billy isn’t even scared in the final shootout when he and the Regulators end up facing the Cavalry. ‘I like these odds’, he cackles. But poor old Charlie almost shits himself. In perhaps the film’s best moment, Charlie begins crying. Billy tells him to pull himself together and Charlie then gets his courage up and starts shooting out of the window like a maniac. Billy then hoots with enjoyment and the two unload on the men outside. It’s a real rabble rousing moment.

And another reason why it works so well is because the chemistry between all the characters is excellent. You end up loving all of them. And although Billy is the most fun, it’s probably Charlie and Dirty Steve that I like the most. Charlie constantly shits himself at every opportunity, but he proves himself to be a loyal and brave fighter, and Dirty Steve comes good, too. At the beginning he’s a mealy-mouthed racist, always hacking on Chavez (Lou Diamond Phillips), but at the end he dies to save the guy. The whole film is infused with the macho notion that as annoying as your friends are, you should do anything for them. And so the final sequence where a few end up dying for their pals gives the film a strange emotional kick.

And Charlie’s death, where he gets to go one on one with John Kinney, is magnificent. Like the film itself, it’s pure rock ‘n’ roll wish fulfilment. But in a film that’s full of screeching guitars and implausibly good-looking outlaws, it’s not out of place.

Oh, and the intro is one of the best things ever.